Madison told me the second trimester is called the ‘honeymoon’ phase. We found this to be true during her pregnancy with Willow. She was all the fuck over me during the second trimester. This time around, it seems less so, but maybe it’s still to come. She’s only just entered this trimester.
As she removes my shirt, she breathes, “I’m gonna see if Mum can keep Willow for longer tomorrow.”
Sharon has Willow until lunchtime and I am more than down with asking her to keep her longer. We’re just under five monthsout from having another child, so I’m trying to make the most of whatever time I can get Madison to myself at the moment.
We strip each other and when I remove her bra, I struggle to keep my eyes off her tits.
“Fuck me,” I rasp, taking hold of them. “I want you pregnant for the rest of your life.”
“See, you’re a boob man. You would hate it if I had saggy boobs.”
I slow my roll. “You’re still thinking about that?” The shit she brought up in the group chat today. “I didn’t think you seriously meant it.”
“Of course I seriously meant it. No woman wants saggy boobs.”
“Fuck, by the time that happens, we’ll be old. I’ll be saggy everywhere too.”
She rolls her eyes. “You will not. And besides, you want a lot of babies who need breastfeeding. My boobs are gonna sag way before I’m old.”
“And I will love the fuck out of them still.”
“Well I might not.”
I narrow my eyes at her, taking in the doubt and insecurity flaring in them. Shit that’s unusual for Madison. She’s one of the most confident women I know when it comes to her body, so this is odd for her.
Reaching for her waist, I pull her close to me again and take hold of her face with my spare hand. “What’s going on? It’s not like you to worry about shit like this.”
“Yes, it is.”
I frown. “No. You’ve got a million anxious thoughts about a million other fucking things, Madison, but never about your body.”
She gives me a quick shake of her head. “That may have been the case before, but not anymore. Not since I got pregnant withWillow, and especially not when my hormones are all messed up.” She pauses before saying softly, “I feel a bit needy, J. Like, what if I put on a heap of weight with this pregnancy that I can’t shift? I still have seven kilos I didn’t lose after Willow.” She bites her lip. “What if I keep getting pregnant like you want me to and then add another seven kilos every time? And then get saggy boobs from breastfeeding? You won’t want me then.”
Fuck.
I didn’t realise this was how she felt or that this had become a source of worry for her.
“Baby, stop.” I rub the pad of my thumb over her cheek. “I don’t see those seven kilos. Fuck, all I see when I look at you is how fucking beautiful and sexy you are. I think you should keep those seven fucking kilos to be honest. I love your curves.”
“Well, at the rate I’m going, it’ll be more than seven kilos I might be keeping.”
“Fuck it if it is, I love you however you come.”
“It’s easy to say that now, J. You might not be saying it in ten years. And honestly, if you ever leave me for another woman, I can’t be held accountable for ripping your balls off.”
I keep my grin in check. “You’re even fucking sexier when you’re jealous. I’m never leaving you for another woman.” I brush my lips over hers before adding, “And besides, I don’t want to even look at another woman. I only want you. Saggy tits, seven kilos, and all.”
She stares up at me, eyes searching mine like she believes me but still isn’t quite ready to give up her doubt. “What if it’s fourteen kilos?”
Fuck I love this woman and all her vulnerability she gives me. All her vulnerability that she trusts me with.
She’s being deadly serious here and I need to put her mind at ease. I need to make her see that it doesn’t matter what sheweighs, I’ll fucking love her. “I’d love to see fourteen kilos of extra curves and tits.”
“What about twenty-one extra kilos of them?”
“Fuck, I could get lost in twenty-one kilos of tits and curves. You’d struggle to drag me from them.”
She takes a deep breath and exhales it. “I’m being too much, aren’t I?”
